Chapter 20 – Vivian
I can’t sleep that night.
Every sound makes me flinch—the creak of the house settling, footsteps in the hall, even the distant hum of the noise outside. My nerves are shot, stretched thin like a wire ready to snap.
I had begged Dimitri to stay. I wasn’t ashamed of it. Not after everything.
But he’d kissed my forehead, promised he had “work to do,” and said he’d come to bed later.
That was hours ago.
Where is he?
I lie there in the dimness, wide awake, my wounded arm throbbing in sync with my heartbeat. Fear curls tight in my stomach, but beneath the fear is something else—something I can’t ignore anymore.
An ache.
Because when he walked into my room earlier, covered in my dried blood, chest heaving, eyes wild until he saw me…something inside me shifted.
I don’t see him as just my captor anymore. Not the man who once cornered me, caged me, controlled me. Tonight, I saw the man who threw himself in front of bullets for me. The man who shielded me with his body. The man whose hands shook when he realized I was bleeding.
And now I can’t lie in this bed another second without knowing where he is.
I slide out from under the covers, careful not to jolt my injured arm. The floor is cold under my feet. My breath trembles as I pull the door open and step into the hallway.
His house is silent, but not in a peaceful way.
In a heavy, waiting way—like the walls themselves know something broke today.
I wrap my good arm around myself and move quietly, searching for him.
Because I’m scared.
Because I’m restless.
Because I ache for him in ways I’m not ready to admit even to myself.
But mostly because I need him tonight.
And I’m going to find him.
I check his office first.
Empty. The lights are off. His chair sits slightly askew, like he stood up too fast.
My pulse spikes.
I move on—past the dining room, past the sitting room, past the shadow-soaked hall that leads to the gym.
Nothing.
No Dimitri.
No sound.
Maybe he isn’t home?
But that doesn’t make any sense. He didn’t tell me he would be leaving. He wouldn’t leave—not tonight. Not after everything that happened.
Still, dread coils in my chest as I slowly move through the house, checking every room, opening every door. My bare feet whisper against the floor as I pass the guest suites, the hallway leading to the gym, the dining room, the lounge. All empty.
Every empty room tightens something inside me.
He wouldn’t leave me here alone.
He wouldn’t.
I push open another door.
Empty.
My heartbeat stutters.
Another door.
Empty.
Finally, I reach the library.
The handle is cold beneath my palm. I push the door open gently, barely breathing—
And there he is.
Dimitri sits in complete darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the storm outside. He’s sunk into the leather armchair, a half-finished glass of vodka dangling from his hand. His shoulders are tense, his jaw locked, his entire body carved out of shadow and exhaustion.
He’s staring into nothing.
Like he’s somewhere far away.
Somewhere ugly.
Somewhere painful.
My chest tightens.
“Dimitri….” My voice cracks.
He looks up slowly, almost like pulling himself back into his own body takes effort.
I swallow, stepping deeper into the room. “I can’t stop seeing it,” I whisper. “The flashes of gunfire. The sound. The way everything…exploded.”
The words tremble out of me.
His eyes darken—soften, even. But only for a second.
“Neither can I,” he says quietly.
The honesty in his voice hits something deep and raw inside me.
I cross the room and sit beside him on the edge of the couch. I’m trembling, not from cold but from everything pressing down on me—the fear, the adrenaline, the memory of his body covering mine, the scent of smoke and panic.
For a few seconds, we don’t speak.
We just breathe in the same broken, heavy air.
His hand lifts again—hesitant, almost reverent—and he brushes his fingers along my wrist. The touch is barely there, but it shoots straight through me, sharp and electric. A question. A warning. A surrender.
His gaze searches mine, dark and stormy, and when he leans closer, his breath warms my cheek.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.
I should.
I know I should.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
I shake my head—small, trembling, undeniable.
That’s all it takes.
The kiss comes slow, devastating, like he’s tasting every inch of my breath, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he moves too fast. His hand cups the side of my face, and I melt into him, the world dissolving until it’s just his mouth, his warmth, his presence swallowing the fear that’s been living in my chest.
He breaks the kiss only to rest his forehead against mine, breathing hard, like he’s fighting something inside him.
Then, wordlessly, he stands and scoops me into his arms.
I gasp softly, my hands curling into his shirt as he carries me down the hall, steady and sure—like nothing could pry me from his hold. His footsteps are quiet, purposeful, each one a promise.
He pushes open the door to our room and lowers me onto the bed with a gentleness that makes my throat tighten. Then he climbs in behind me, pulling me against him, my back to his chest, his arm sliding around my waist with a fierce, protective hold.
He exhales into my hair—a deep, trembling breath.
Like he’s finally where he needs to be.
His chest presses against my spine, his heartbeat slow and heavy—a grounding drum that steadies the storm inside me. I relax into him, letting the warmth of his body sink into my bones.
His lips graze the back of my shoulder as he whispers, almost broken:
“I’ve got you.”
And for the first time all night, I believe him.
I’m about to close my eyes when something hard pokes me between my ass cheeks. It’s Dimitri’s erection. Desire blooms inside me, spreading through every nerve ending. I reach back, running my hand along the length of him through his pants. His breathing quickens.
“Vivian, if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to,” he warns.
I roll my eyes, stifling a smile. “I also don’t want you to.”
With a growl, he wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me closer. With the other, he pushes my dress up my legs and hooks one of my legs around his waist, exposing me completely. He rubs my clit a few times and buries his face in my neck.
“Fuck, Viv, you’re so wet,” he groans. “I want to taste you.”
He untangles himself from my hold and settles between my spread legs. Before I can react, he swoops down, running his tongue all the way from my clit to my ass—back and forth, again and again—until I’m a soaking mess.
“Dimitri, please,” I beg, sinking my hands into his hair and pressing him against me. He latches his lips onto my clitoris and rolls them with his tongue. I scream, pressing myself deeper into his mouth.
I’m probably suffocating him, and he doesn’t care—he devours me like it’s his last meal on earth. Suddenly, he pulls away, fumbles with his pants, and enters me with a single thrust.
“Dimitri!” I scream, and his eyes shine with pride.
“Yes. Scream my name,” he growls. “Scream it.”
His pounding grows harder, and I scream his name again.
“Yes,” he hisses.
I cling to his arm as he thrusts deeper with every slam. When he leans down, capturing my nipple in his warm mouth through my silk dress, I shatter. He follows shortly after.
When it’s over, I feel marked—not by pain, but by the quiet certainty of his presence, the unspoken claim he’s laid over me. Safe, for the first time in my life.
He tilts his head, eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I am.”
He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Vivian…you scared me today. Please don’t ever do that again.”
I hum softly, letting him feel my reassurance.
He continues, voice low, almost trembling. “I messed up. You were never supposed to be anywhere near that press conference. This is the second time I’ve put you in harm’s way, and I can’t forgive myself for it.”
I reach for him. “You have to forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”
His hand closes around mine, fingers warm and firm. “Promise me,” he says, “no more interfering in my missions. Don’t ask to be included. I would have to say no, and I…I hate saying no to you.”
I squeeze his hand, understanding without words.
After a moment, I whisper, “What do you think…is our next step?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I tilt my head, letting a soft giggle escape. “I’m not planning to get in trouble,” I add quickly. “I just…I want to be aware. I want to know.”
His eyes flick to mine, sharp and calculating, then soften. “We caught one of the killers,” he says finally. “But he didn’t give us anything valuable. Everything he told us…we already knew.”
I let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension drain from my chest. “I trust you,” I say quietly. “I trust you to keep us safe.”
He presses a thumb to the back of my hand, a small, grounding gesture. “Then stay close,” he murmurs. “Don’t go anywhere. Please.”
And in that moment, I realize it’s not just about survival anymore. It’s about us—about holding on to each other while the world burns around us.
“I won’t.”
Dimitri leans his head against my shoulder, voice low and almost vulnerable. “I told myself this was revenge,” he murmurs. “But I think…it’s already my ruin.”
I don’t answer. I simply brush my fingers along his cheek, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, letting him feel the comfort and warmth I can give.
Eventually, sleep comes for both of us, slow and unbroken, wrapped in each other’s arms. The world outside can wait. Here, in this room, we exist only for one another.